
\ 



THE 
DOVE UNCAGED 

A PLAY IN ONE ACT 



By 

E. HAMILTON MOORE 



Copyright, 1912, by Samuel French, Limited 



New York ; London 

SAMUEL FRENCH SAMUEL FRE>^CH. Ltd 

Publisher , 26 Southampton Street 

jS-30 WEST 38TH STREET | STRAND 



C1.D 29826 



The Fee for each and every representation of this 
play by Amateurs is One Guinea payable in ad- 
vance to : — 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd., 
26, Southampton Street, 

Strand, London, 

or their authorized representatives, who will issue a 
written permission for the performance to take 
place. 

No representation may be given unless this written 
authority has first been obtained. 

The dresses worn by the Sisters and also that worn 
by the novice Colombina have been specially prepared- 
and may be hired reasonably from Messrs. C. H 
Fox, Ltd., 27, Wellington Street, Strand, London. 



ROYALTY THEATRE 

On Tuesday and Friday Afternoons 

February 20th, 23rd, 27th, March ist, 5th, and 8th, 
1912, at 3, 

MESSRS. 

VEDRENNE AND EADIE 

PRESENT 

THE DOVE UNCAGED 

A Fantasy in O ne Act by 
E. HAMILTON MOORE. , 

Sister Monica Miss Marion Terry 

Sister Lucia (the sub-prioress) Miss Mary Relph 

Sister Clara Miss Rose Yule 

Sister Serena Miss Rose Dupre 

The Novice Colombina . . Miss Gladys Cooper 
Other Sisters. 

Scene — An Italian Convent. 

Time — The Present. 

Produced under the Direction of Frank Vernon. 



THE DOVE UNCAGED 

vScENE. — The embroidery room in a Convent, where 
the sisters are at work. Sister Lucia, short, 
plump, high-coloured, with keen black eyes, well 
marked brows and some lilies of a quick temper 
about her mouth and forehead, is employed on a 
richly coloured cope. Sister Serena, an essenti- 
ally commonplace woman, bourgeois and kind- 
hearted, with a naively dimpled chin, is making 
pillow lace. Sister Clara, a restrained enthusiast, 
with eyes of perpetual childish wonder, is drawing 
threads from a fine linen altar cloth. She would 
say more if Sister Lucia were away. Other Sisters 
are employed on various kinds of needlework. Sister 
Monica stands at a lectern, reading aloud. She is 
tall, slight, ascetic, ivith the eyes of dreams. Sister 
Clara thinks her a saint. 

Sister Monica {reading aloud standing l. of table). 
Now on a day it fell, the holy Francis, 
Lover of God, and God's dear creatures, walked 
Amid the market-place, and there beheld 
A cage of turtle doves, that, newly caught, 
Fluttered their captive wings against the bars. 
And beat their tender breasts with little cries. 
To reach the greenwood, where their nests grew cold. 
So, these beholding, having pity on them, 
Oh ! fluttering, tender birds, St. Francis saith, 
Oh ! gentle sisters, innocent and chaste. 
How hath the world betrayed your simple souls 
With sugared baits to its captivity ! 
Such foolish souls at greater price were once 
Redeemed again to liberty ! Lo now. 
In memory of that great redeeming act. 
With what I have to give, I purchase ye. 
To give you back, dear little sisters mine, 
To live your happy lives, and sing and soar. 



8 THE DOVE UNCAGED. 

And meet your gentle mates, and build your nests, 
And hatch your little ones to be God's praise, 
Who bade each creature multiply its kind 
To His great glory and their own content. 
(She pauses, goes to window l.c. ajid looks out). 
vSiSTER Clara. Sweet Sister Monica, the hour is 
sped. 
Your voice is weary. Come and sit awhile. 
Nuns all continue working. Sister Clara alone 
watches Monica. 
Monica ((2i^ the window). Two doves are fluttering 
round the campanile. 
The bright sun on their wings. They rise and fall, 
And follow one another in their play. 
What is their life, I wonder ? . . . 

Serena [seated r. end of form, back of table — in a 
drv tone). Has any noted little Colombina, 
Our pretty novice with her glancing smile ? 
The child holds off of late and seems to brood. 

Clara. 'Tis so until the robing. I have seen 
Full many a novice fret till that be by. 

Serena. Almost it seems some pity, Sister Cl^ra, 
To sheer away that golden hair of hers (moiemeri t 

from all), 
And garb her gravel}', now the novice robe 
Becomes so well her slender prettiness. 

Lucia (seated chair r. erJ of table). Now what a 
thought is this, Sister Serena ? 
Fie on such worldly talk ! My tresses coiled 
I vow were twice her length and black as night ; 
And when they sheared them off before the altar, 
The floor was strewn. Nay, did I grudge the gift, 
Or any here ? 

Serena (half- frightened tone). Twas but a way- 
ward fancy, 
Sister Lucia,^ chide not. Still, the maid 
Is young and passing fair, and 'tis a marvel 
Being so young and fair, she set her choice 
On Heavenly things. 

1 Pronounced Lu-c/n'a. 



THE DOVE UNCAGED. 9 

Lucia. What matters young and fair ? (Monica 
looks at Lucia.) 
Well, I was once accounted fair, and had 
A glass to gaze in, and a tongue to tell me 
For fear I should forget. Now all's gone by. 
I have not seen my face a score of years. 
vSo will it be with her who brings her youth, 
And youth's desires and wandering wanton fancies, 
And beauty — if the maid be beautiful 
As you will have it — laying all these down 
Before the altar, for acceptance there. 
And I have heard tell of those who live in the world, 
Fair girls who give their hearts to earthly loves, 
That all their beauty flatters not their pride 
When once they love indeed. They'd have it doubled 
To be a lover's joy. But who has chosen 
The heavenly Bridegroom brings no gift too great 
To lay before His feet. The best is worthless, 
And His acceptance only gives it worth. 
(Pause.) 

Serena. Last night in braiding her bright hair, 
she wept. 

Lucia. Unworthy tears ! 

Clara. But when the robing's by . . . 

Lucia. Ah, then will come a change ! That 
throbbing heart 
Will keep still pace for ever. I have seen 
The proudest spirit broken. She will learn 
The mystic love that hushes all desire. 
The call that shuts all earthly noises out. 

Monica. The birds are all abroad about the grass, 
And calhng from the trees. 'Tis nesting time ! 
How sweet the Spring song . . . 
{A bell rings, all turn, rise and put by their work.) 
Bell Rings. 

Clara. Now a change of labour. 

Come, sister (rise), let us go to beg our bread. 
Or we'll not eat to-day. 

(She and another Sister put form back, go 
out R.) 



10 THE DOVE UNCAGED. 

Serena. The Choristers 

Are waiting in the chapel till I come {crosses behind 
table ; Exit r.) 

(She goes out. Other Sisters go out r.) 
Bell Stops. 

(Lucia rises — Monica comes c. of table.) 
Monica. My task is here. , ..,.■ 

(She indicates the table with Ahe- parcel or, it. The 
Nuns take their work and embroideries with them. ) 

Lucia. The little Colombina , 

Is in your charge to-day. See to it. Sister, 
You hold her to her task. The holy Mother 
Suspects her wandering thoughts. But yester e'en, 
A trifling thing— I am ashamed to speak — 
The perfume — pardon me — a cigarette — 
Moved her to tears. 

(Sister Monica expresses horror.) 

Lucia. Then, too, the garden gate — 

Some one has trifled with the latch. 
Monica. The latch ! 

Lucia. A workman comes to-day. Till he be gone 
Let her not out of doors into the garden, 
Lest the bird fly away. (Move to entrance R.) 

Monica. The dove escaped ! 

Lucia (turn quickly). What's that you sa}^ ? The 
maid of her free will 
Is vowed to God, but youth is in her blood, 
And warmer than she wots. Hold back her thoughts 
From things of earth. Let all your talk be tales 
Of chill virginity and whitest souls, 
That chose the better part, beyond this love, 
Whereby, they say, in the world, ill deeds are done, 
It were a sin to dream of or to know^ of. 
Thank Heaven, I know not of such deeds at all, 
Save that such deeds are evil. (Moves to door.) 

See to her ! 
I must to the catechizing. I come late. 
(She goes out follou'ed by the two Nuns with books, R.) 




Th.' Novice Colombina. 



THE DOVE ITNCAGED. la 

Monica. So, sister, fare you well. Now, Holy 

Mother, 
What knots are these ? No woman's hand has knit 

them. 
What's in my blood to-day ? As though it sang — 
The song the birds are calling — Ah, I thought 
That song was hushed {undoing parcel) . . . White 

linen and the finest . . . 
(Reading.) A dozen to the pattern . . . Where ? 

Ah, here. . . . 

A shirt ... 

(She holds it up. Colombina enters r.) 

My Colombina ! 

(She drops the shirt.) 

(Colombina runs in from r., cotnes to r. of Sister 
Monica.) 

Colombina (r.). Dear Sister Monica, Sweet Sister 
Monica (kiss.) 
(Comes close to her.) Kind Sister Monica (moves back) 
why, what is this ? 
Monica. Our task, child . . . 
Colombina. All this linen ! (crosses to window 
L. front of table.) 
And such a morning out of doors to-day ! 
/ Monica. Child, child, you are my charge . . . 
Colombina (return to Monica). Kind, gentle 

sister . . . 
Monica. And shall not charm me with your 
gentlest phrases. 
To let you leave my side. 

Colombina (arms round Monica). To leave your 
side ? 
Why should I wish it ? (Move L.) Ah, you have 
been reading. 

(Reads. Monica moves behind the table.) 
St. Francis and the Doves. What legend's here ? 
(Reads a moment in silence and then continues aloud.) 



14 THE DOVE UNCAGED. 

" And oped the cages wide and let them go 
To where their nests were growing cold for them . . . 
But some retmmed, and 'neath the convent wall 
Nested and reared their young, and all the brethren. 
Seeing their gentle loves, gave thanks to God 
For these His creatures." Would I were a bird ! 
Oh ! would I were a dove, with little wings 
To fly . . . 

Monica. Where ? (Standing c, cutting out.) 
CoLOMBixA (starting). To the Saints ... I said 
the Saints. 

(She turns over the pages, n'liile Sister Monica watches 
her, unrolling the linen ahserdmindedly .) 

Now here's another story of St. Francis, 

And Sister Claire that left her home and kindred 

To follow him she loved and would obe}^ 

To her life's end : (Reading). " And all the brethren 

came. 
And when the night was hushed and stars were hid ; 
Just at the corner of a little wood, 
(So far her love had boldly led her feet,) 
They met the mystic bride with torch and song, 
And led her to the altar " . . . ah . . ." to make her 
The bride of Heaven ! ' ' 

(Disappointed.) 

Oh, Heaven ! (Monica gently puts Colombina 
away from the hook and closes it.) Why ! gentle 
sister. 
I did but read the legends of the Saint ! 

(Sister Monica has snapped up the hook and laid it 
aside sharply.) 

(Comes front of tahle.) 

I did but read . . . Why ? What is this ? A 
shirt ? 

(She picks it up.) 

A man's shirt. Ah i 



THE DOVE UNCAGED. 15 

Monica {behind table). Yes, lay it on the table. 
Why do you stroke it ? 

CoLOMBiNA. Ah — yes ! dearest Sister ! 

I will not call you Sister any more. 

Monica. Not call me Sister ? 

CoLOMBiNA. You shall be my mother, 

And I your child. 

(Sister Monica takes shirt from Colombina, begins 
to cut out a shirt, without answering.) 

Colombina (goes to window l. and looks out). Tell 
me, are dreams a sin ? 

Monica {cutting out). Our dreams are but the 
image of our thoughts. 
And if the thought be sinful — pins, my child — 
There — in the drawer — our dreams are sinful too. 

(Colombina brings pins and then goes back to 
window.) 

(Colombina hands her the pins and looks out of the 

windoid'.) 

Colombina. How the doves flutter there. 
Monica. The doves . . . Ah, yes . . . 

The doves are symbols of great purity. 
Think, child, of holy things. {Moves chair R. end of 
table.) 
Colombina. But there are two — 

And they are billing ! Dearest little mother {comes 

to Monica), 
How odd 3^ou are to-day. So very stern ! 
Pins in your mouth, too — will not let me kiss you. 
Monica {kiss). What was your dream ? 
Colombina {sits l. of form, front of table). I stood 

before the altar . . . 
Monica. As you will stand one day to take your 

vows. 
Colombina {dreams). My hair was wreathed with 

flowers. 
Monica. Yes, on that day 
Your golden locks will fall about your feet. 
And clearest virtues, shining from your brow, 
Will wreathe you like a garland. 



16 THE DOVE UXCAGED. 

CoLOMBixA. All in white. 

Monica. The robe of chastity. 

CoLOMBiXA {appecJiiigly). Oh, little mother! 

(Monica turns and looks at her.) 

{In desperation.) How can I wear it ? Did j^ou 
never love ? 

Monica. That is the purest love that goes so clad. 

CoLOMBiNA. But human love . . . 

Monica {rise). In every lowliest brow 

I read my Master's image, and for His sake, 
Love humankind. 

CoLOMBiNA. But did you never love, 

Above all others one ? 

Monica. My mother once, 

And when she died, the mother of this house. 
And later, little Colombina . . . 

COLOMBINA. Oh ! 

But tell me, did you never love . . . a . . . man ? 

Monica. Child, child ! What do you say ? 

Colombina. Oh ! I am sinful. 

(Colombina hen.ds her head down.) 

Monica. Yes, very sinful. Weep, my child, and 
pray, 
And think of heavenly things. 

{She measures the shirt she has just cut out by the 
patter?:.) 

Have you your thimble ? 

Colombina {recover ir^g). Here in my pocket. 

{She begins to sew on the shirt just cut out, while Sister 
Monica begins to cut out another.) 

Monica gives her the shirt end a needle and cotton.) 

{After a short silence looks up.) 

May I see the pattern ? 

Monica {suspiciously). What do you want with it ? 
Colombina. Only to see — to see the buttonholes. 
Monica. Those can be left awhile. The shirt's to 
make. 



THE DOVE UNCAGED. 17 

CoLOMBiNA. Sister ... 

Monica. You called me mother. 

CoLOMBiNA. Little mother. 

Did he wear shirts like these ? 

Monica. Did . . . what is that ? 

CoLOMBiNA. The man you loved . . . ah, no ! I 
know you did ! 
Yes ! Listen ! and quarrelled with him, and came 

here, 
And tried to live without him and forget. 
And — no, no, let me speak — / understand, 
I know all that, dear Mother Monica ; 
And you could not forget, and you were sorry, 
And if you could, you would have left the convent . . . 

Monica (amazed). I left the convent ? / ? 
(Tries to turn away.) 

Colombina (stops Monica) . And was he handsome ? 
(Rise.) 
But every lover's handsome . . . Tall or slight ? 
And did his eyes creep right into your blood ? 
And when he kissed you . . . 

Monica. Stop ! stop ! are you mad ? 

Both you and I ! that I should hear such talk ! 

(Colombina picks up shirt.) 
Put down that cursed thing. It is bewitched ! 

(She pauses sudder.ly and looks suspiciously at Colom- 
bina.) 

Song Ready. 

Now by the Saints, I swear I smell tobacco ! 
Colombina. Where ? On the pattern ? 

(Slie tries to take it up.) 

Monica. No ! You shall not touch it ! 

[Tliey stand and look at one another.) 

(Sloiiiy). It is tobacco 1 (up to window R.c.) 

(.4 pause.) 

Colombina. Some one on an errand. 

(She goes to the -window.) Song. 



18 THE DOVE UNCAGED. 

How bright the sun is ! 

Monica. Yes. 'Tis far too bright. (She moves 
CoLO^NiBiNA away, passing her over in jront of 
herself, and pulls blinds over window l. Colombina 
goes up to window r.c.) 

[She draws a curtain right over one window, shutting 
out the view. While she does so, Colombina, at the 
other window, sees something that makes her start 
hack. She feels for a handkerchief , finds none, and 
catches up the shirt, kisses and waves it. It falls 
out of the window. Mute dismay. The tinkling 
of a guitar is heard from a distance, and a low song. 
The voice is that of a man. He comes nearer and 
then seems to pass down the road. Both Monica 
and Colo:\ibina listen, arrested, and every word is 
audible.) 

The Singer. My httle dove. Oh, come, I pray, 
The cage is open wide to-day. 
And this the rnerry month of May, 
Oh, come awa}^. 

My pretty bird, there's none to tell. 
Save your love, who loves you well. 
Do not bid my heart farewell. 

My dear, my own, for \'0U I wait. 
Lift the latch and ope the gate. 
Come, and trifle not with Fate, 
Or 'tis too late. 

{The voice dies away. The girl stands rigid. Sister 
Monica goes to her and lays her hand on her head.) 

Monica (up c. solemnly). Oh, fluttering, tender 
birds, St. Francis saith, 
Oh, gentle sisters, innocent and chaste. 
How hath the world betrayed your simple souls 
With sugared baits to its captivity. 

Colombina, And oped their cages wide, and let 
them go. 
To where their nests . . . (Her voice breaks.) 

Monica. The world is strong, my child ! 



THE DOVE UNCAGED I9 

CoLOMBiNA. Love's stronger than the world. Oh, 
Monica ! 

(She hursts into tears.) 

Monica. Why do you weep ? Why do you weep, 

my child ? 
CoLOMBiNA {head upon Monica's shoulder). For 

fear you will be angry, little mother. 
Monica. Angry ? 

CoLOMBiNA. I dropped the shirt out of the window. 
Monica. You dropped the shirt ? 

CoLOMBiNA. There, on the grass. How can I 

work without it ? 
Monica. The buttonholes. ... 
CoLOMBiNA, The buttonholes, 

dear mother. {Drop doimi.) 

{She whispers) 

I must go bring it back. 

{She looks up into Monica's face and lays her head 
on her shoulder.) 

Monica. What ! Leave these walls ? 

CoLOMBiNA. Yes, Sister Monica ... to find the 
shirt. 

(.4 pause.) 

Monica. Go then, my child {kiss). Yes, we must 
have the shirt. {Takes her to entrance r.) 

CoLOMBiNA. Bless me before I go. I heard you 
say 
The shirt's bewitched. Give me your blessing, 
mother. 

(Monica puts hand on head — Colombina herds a little.) 

Monica. I give my blessing. Go now, do not 
tarry. (Colombina goes r.) 
The Workman may be coming. 

Colombina. Workman ? Who ? 

Monica. To mend the lock — and if he finds the 
shirt . . . 



20 THE DOVE UNCAGED. 

CoLOMBixA. What should we do ? 

{She runs to the door and then turns back.) 

One kiss, one httle kiss. 
Monica. And if you find the shirt . . . 
CoLOMBiNA. I will come back 

And bring it here, for you to bless it. 
Monica. ' Child ! 

CoLOMBiNA [running off). The dove has wings. 

(She goes out.) 

(Sister Monica crosses to Reading Desk, goes to the 
place where the book lies, and turns it over, shaking 
her head.) 

Monica. Not there, not there . . . but in God's 
holy word : 

He made them man and woman, and these twain, 

Should be one flesJi . . . 

Bell. 
{She broods a moment. A bell rings loudly.) 

The refectory bell ! 
The sisters are assembled, and the child — 
What have I done ? I have gone mad, gone mad ! 

Stop. 

All day was something itching in my veins. 

I never knew before, and foolish tears 

Smarted my eyes in looking at the birds. 

Ah ! witchcraft ! witchcraft ! It hath maddened me ! 

How shall I stop her . . . Ah, the bell, the bell ! 

(She seizes a bell rope near the door and rings repeatedly. 
The Sisters come running in, talking as they come.) 

Large Bell. 

. Serena. Dear Sister, we are here ! 
Monica (still ringing). You come too late ! 

Clara. Stay ! Stay ! What is the matter ? 
Monica (tip l.). Culpa mea ! 

Bell Stops. 



THE DOVE UNCAGED. 21 

Serena. Our sister is o'erwrought. 
(Enter Lucia.) 

Lucia. Where is the novice ? 

Serena. Yes, where is Colombina ? 

Lucia (over r.). Answer, sister. 

Where is the child ? 

Monica (wringrng her hands). I'll not be taxed 
with her. 
How could I stay her ? 'Twas the accursed thing ! 
The shirt — bewitched — 

Lucia. This is pure lunacy. 

Monica (comes down l. of table). Tis that hath 
driven me mad, if mad I be. 
What do we here, poor sisters, brides of Heaven, 
Stitching at shirts for gain like worldly ones. 
Who go the common road with them who wear. 
These cursed things. I felt my fingers tingle 
Ere I undid the knots. Twas witchcraft working, 
And when I handled it, it flew from me. 
And fell upon the floor, because my thoughts 
Were all on heavenly chastity. 

Serena. A marvel ! 

Lucia. A marvel if so be it did indeed. 

Monica. Ah, sister ! 

You doubt my words, but see, the worst comes after. 
Look from the window. There you find the shirt. 
Down on the grass. How came it there ? 

(They run to the ii}indoiv.) 

Lucia. The grass ? 

There is no shirt at all ! 

Monica. Then it is gone, 

He must have taken it. 

All. He ! Who ! A man ? 

Monica. And she has gone with him. 

Several. What, Colombina ! 

Lucia. Ah ! now we have the truth. The novice 
gone ! 
You knew — you let her go. — You — search her out ! 
Follow her . . . What is that ? 



22 THE DOVE UNCAGED. 

{Knocking starts.) 
Warning. 

Serena. Holy St. Francis 

Clara. The workman at the lock. 
Lucia. And she escaped ! 

And all this is fable . . . 
Monica. Sister ! 

{Knocking stops.) 

Lucia. Of your shirt . . . 

Monica. Hear me . . . 

Lucia {near entrance r.). A3/e ! when the reverend 
mother learns it. 

As she shall learn it . . . 

{Song starts.) 

Monica. From my lips ! 
Lucia. From mine ! 

Serena. Hush ! ^^'hat is that — there, dying 
down the road ? 

{All listen intently.) 

Clail\. Ah, there ! Again ! 

Serena. It sounded like a song. 

{The song is wafted to them.) 

Monica {at window l.). The white doves flying 
round the campanile. 
And praising God, who bade them build their nests. 

Together . . . 

{All turn and look at her in wonder.) 



Scene Closes. 



THE DOVE UNCAGED. 



23 




24 ^ .«€« THE DOVE UNCAGED. 

MAY 29 WW 

PROPERTY PLOT. 

Long Oak Table c. 

Large Oak Arm Chair r. of Table. 

Long Forms each side of Table. 

Reading Desk on l. end of Table. 

Large Book, Lives of the Saints, on Desk. 

Blinds to Window l. 

HAND PROPS. 

Cope draped over Chair. 

Embroidery for Sister Lucia. 

Pillow for Lace Making for Sister Serena. 

Hand Tapestry Frame for Sister Clara. 

Dalmatic for Nun. 

Chasable for Nun. 

2 Missals for Nuns. 

Bell Rope by Window l. 

On Table ; — Blue paper parcel, in it : — Large piece of white 
linen, a man's blue linen shirt. Workbasket ; — 
Scissors, pins, thimble, needles and cottons, 
pin-cushion. 

Under stage : — 2 Bells, i thin tone ; i loud, deep peal. 
Lock-mending effect. 
To work at cues. 



SYNOPSIS. 

The room is barely furnished with a long oak table and 
benches. An oak chair for the Superior and a desk or lectern, 
which supports a volume of Legends of the Saints. 

To the L. is a diamond paned window, with long curtains of 
soft material, drawn back on either side to admit the morning 
sun. 

To the R. at the back is an archway leading into a passage 
in which there is a small leaded window. Beyond the arch- 
way is a recess or alcove running the length of the room. 
An open colonade, through which one sees blue sky and the 
tops of two or three cypress trees. 

Above the archway is afaded fresco, the subject St. Francis 
preaching to the birds. In the wall to the r. is a small 
nitch. 

On the table, but concealed by the needlework, is a large 
parcel ; there are also pin-cushions, small workbasket, etc. 



Printed by Butler & Tanner, Frame and London. 



